


Advent

by SugarsweetRomantic



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Advent, Advent Calendar, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Family Fluff, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Holidays, Romantic Fluff, just a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-02-08 22:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 7,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12874245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: Franky and Bridget count down to Christmas.An advent calendar of sorts: a ficlet a day, inspired by various December-related prompts.Delayed: explanation in the author's note in chapter 16.





	1. Coming

Bridget hit the steering wheel in frustration. Of course, traffic was a disaster. It was Christmas Eve, after all. She hadn't planned on being out on the road in the first place, but a crisis at Wentworth meant all available personnel had been called in to try and prevent it from escalating - well, to help it stay as small as possible, if they were being honest about the whole situation. She offered an apologetic smile to the new intern, Erin, in her passenger seat. When she had heard that the girl was going to attempt to catch a train home in this logistical disaster of an evening, the psychologist had offered to drive her home instead. Groaning softly, she pressed a button near her thumb, and the handsfree car kit came to life, a computerised voice asking her: “Who would you like to call?”

“Francesca,” was her answer. Within seconds, the phone on the other end of the line was picked up with a: “Hey Gidget, is everything okay?” Hearing the bright enthusiastic voice immediately put a smile on the blonde's face.

“Hey babe, I've got Erin next to me, just dropping her off.” She had to make sure Franky wouldn't accidentally mention anything...incriminating, though she doubted the paralegal would.

“Oh, hello!” The tone of the younger woman’s voice told her that she had understood the meaning of the innocent comment.

“Traffic is a disaster, so I'm going to be a while.” She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead; it was incredibly warm out and they were stuck in the heat of the sun. Why did this have to happen? Their first Christmas together, and once again, Wentworth was about to ruin it for them. 

“Oh, no worries, take your time and drive safely, okay?” Bridget smiled again. What had she done to deserve such kind understanding? Though, she was certain she heard a slight hint of disappointment in Franky’s voice.

“Will do. See you tonight.”

 

Two hours later, the psychologist finally pulled up to her home, which seemed to be dark and empty. Had Franky gone to her bedsit or her Dad’s instead? Bridget couldn't blame her for wanting some company, now could she? Sighing softly, she got out of the car and walked up to the front door, entering the house quietly. Her cat came walking up to her, and she quickly scratched behind his ears to greet the furry creature. Continuing into the living room, she was met by a sight that took her breath away. Tiny faerie lights were scattered across the walls and furniture, illuminating the room in a soft glow. In the middle, on the sofa, she found Franky. Fast asleep. She walked up to her and caressed her forehead. Just as the brunette opened her eyes, the clock struck midnight.

“Merry Christmas.”


	2. Snowflake Lashes

Loud and excited giggles and squeals coming from the backyard were the first things Franky and Alan Doyle heard as they entered Bridget Westfall’s home. The father and daughter had been Christmas shopping for one of their reconciliation attempts, as they were, and Tess had been left in Bridget’s care while they were gone. Smirking, Franky walked over towards the kitchen to put the ingredients for their Christmas dinner away before the summer heat would affect their quality. She wasn't going to announce their presence to the girls just yet. Her father and she worked quickly as they placed all of the food where it belonged. Once the work was finished, Franky fixed them both a glass of ice cold water. She still had to get the presents for Tess and Gidge out of the car and into a hiding spot, but she could do that tonight. Right now, she just wanted to cool down.

“Franky, look!” Alan suddenly whispered, trying to suppress a bout of laughter. The brunette followed his gaze to the glass sliding doors that connected the living room to the garden, and had to stifle a giggle herself. Bridget’s cat Fred came padding in, a disgruntled look on the senior feline citizen’s face. From the looks of it, the poor thing had been hit by a cloud of gold and silver glitter. The tiny particles decorated his mousey grey fur in nebula-like clusters, and judging by his expression, only the promise of a piece of fresh salmon tonight would make up for this disgrace. Chuckling to herself, Franky finally walked out into the yard, calling out: “Would someone like to explain why poor Fred looks like a gay pride float?” Immediately a small body flung itself towards her, arms wrapping around her legs.

“Franky!” Tess herself, the older Doyle sister realised, was covered in glitter as well. And now, so were her jeans. “We're making Christmas cards!” 

“Ah, I see.” With a giggle, Tess continued towards the door to greet her father, who had exited the house as well.

“We may have gotten a little too excited about glitter application.” Bridget looked down at the ground, a slight blush gracing her cheeks at the realisation that by her doing, all the beings in the home were now covered in shiny dust. 

“I love it,” Franky reassured her, walking over to her to wrap her arms around the blonde. Her Gidget looked up at her, and Franky smiled at the sight of the tiny specks of gold scattered across her cheekbones and eyelashes. “It suits ya.”


	3. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to ADancerWrites.

Bridget huffed softly as she observed Franky. The younger woman was hiding something from her, she just knew it. She was being secretive about her whereabouts and whenever she was on her phone or her laptop she would close a tab or lock the screen when Bridget happened to walk past her or glance her way. She had nearly freaked out when the blonde has asked to borrow her phone to call in sick for work a few days ago when she couldn't find her own. All in all, Bridget was pissed, and she had had enough.

Franky had stepped into the bathroom to take a shower, and she had taken her phone with her to play some music, but her laptop was lying on the couch. Bingo. The older woman softly padded over to the offensive device and opened it.

_ Enter password. _

Luckily Franky used the exact same password for every single account she owned. Bridget quickly typed in: ‘TangleMeInStrings17’ - a song lyric, Franky had once explained - and the Windows 8 log in screen made way for the brunette’s desktop. The background was a photo of the both of them on the beach, walking hand in hand. She clicked on the browser icon, and continued on towards the Internet history. Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary at first glance: Facebook, email, food delivery… Suddenly a collection of Google searches caught her eye; the queries had been sent in rapid succession. 

_ Jewellery store  _

_ Engagement ring _

_ Ring gold _

_ Ring white gold Melbourne _

“What the…” she mumbled, staring at the letters on the screen.

“Shit!” The exclamation came from the doorway, where Franky was standing, a towel wrapped around her body and water dripping from her moistened hair. “Gidget, I'm sorry for hiding stuff from ya. I...I wanted to tell you, but…” She bit her bottom lip. The blonde shook her head, unable to suppress the brightest smile she had smiled in days, as she whispered: “I didn't see a thing.” She closed the laptop, and asked: “Can I still join you for that shower?”

 

\--

 

Beautiful Rèll (ADancerWrites),

 

Let me start off by saying that I never knew it was possible to love another human being as much as I love you. We've been through hell and back together. We have dealt with stalking, false allegations, police investigations, poverty and we have survived, even when everybody else seemed to be against us.

I have never been more certain than right now when I say that you are the love of my life. We belong together; it just fits, in every single way. We are opposites in exactly the right personality traits: you are active, I am calm. You have a never-ending ambition to get further in life, I just want a degree and to be a mother.

You are the most amazing person I have ever met in my life. You are smart. You are kind. You are compassionate. You are strong as hell and won't let anyone mess with you - or me, for that matter. You will fight for what you believe is right. You believe in justice, in love, in God. 

You allow me the space to be myself: to run a fic idea by you in the middle of the night, to play Attack Symmetra and yell at the TV screen for an entire evening, to hide in your arms when my demons get the best of me.

You have stuck with me when my family did everything in their power to destroy us. They nearly succeeded, but we held strong. We are a team. A unity. 

I love you. Forever and ever and ever and always.

The Lord and the universe are going to take you from me prematurely. There's nothing we can do about that. We know that. But it will never tear us apart. Not even death. Our bond is too strong. We belong together.

I love you with every fibre of my being. I love you more than chocolate, more than music. I love you more than love itself.

No matter what happens tomorrow, nothing can change that. Ever.

Franky may not have the courage yet, but I hope I do.

You are the Sara to my Grissom, the Van Dongen to my Wolfs, the Freddie to my Bodine. You are the Franky to my Bridget.

Would you do me the greatest honour in the world - will you marry me?


	4. Resonate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re The previous chapter: Yes, that proposal wasn't fiction - it was real. And she said yes. :) ADancerWrites and I are now engaged to be married.
> 
> Your normal Fridget programming will now continue. ;)  
> This is a religious one, with mentions of Catholicism. If that's not your thing, feel free to skip!

The night was dark as Bridget Westfall walked up towards the small chapel hidden by trees. Illuminated only by the flickering flame of lantern she was carrying, she took careful steps along the cobblestones and pebbles that formed the makeshift path. Her lithe body was covered in a simple white cotton dress which reached past her knees, a soft lilac wrap covering her chest and shoulders to offer modesty. Coming here was a Westfall tradition, and now that her parents couldn't go anymore, she went by herself, shielded by the darkness of the forest. 

She wasn't fully alone, though. She had left Franky in the car at the entrance to the woods, ensuring her that she would be okay by herself. Franky wasn't religious, and Bridget didn't want to force anything upon her. The woman had had enough done against her will in her life already. 

A soft glow surrounded the chapel, courtesy of the dozens of candles burning gracefully inside. Messages of hope, requests for assistance, or declarations of love - all valid and all worthy. Bridget smiled gently as she entered the small building. She deposited a few coins into the donation box before lighting four lights herself - one for Mum, one for Dad, one for the world, and one for Franky. The flames soothed her soul as she watched them dance. She knelt onto the prie-dieu nearby and touched her forehead, chest and shoulders while whispering: “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” After a moment of silence, she continued softly:

“Hail Mary, full of grace,   
the Lord is with thee;   
blessed art thou amongst women,   
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus-” 

Suddenly the absence of her parents this year hit her like a ton of bricks and she found herself unable to get the next word out of her trembling throat. She was about to give up out of frustration when a clear voice behind her continued it for her, the sound filling the small space:

“Holy Mary, Mother of God,   
pray for us sinners,   
now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”

Turning around, Bridget saw Franky standing in the entryway of the chapel, her phone casting light onto her features. 

“I got worried about you being out here all by yourself,” she whispered. The blonde was wrapped in her arms in no time.

“Thank you.”

“Always.”


	5. Portend

A loud clang came out of the kitchen, followed by a frustrated grunt. Bridget rose an eyebrow at the sudden noise, but decided to remain seated behind her laptop in her study for the time being. Franky was preparing the Christmas dinner, and Franky was, well, stressed. She could hear a: “Sorry Fred,” being said, and the gentle sounds of cooking continued. Good. The psychologist tried to divert her attention back towards the study on reoffending statistics she was reading again. 

Within minutes, however, the air was pierced by a loud exclamation of expletives and the sound of something shattering on the tiles. Bridget jumped up and hurried towards the source of the noise, only to find Franky running her hand under the cold stream of the tap, her face red. Shards of what once was a glass bowl littered the kitchen floor, covered in something brown and syrupy. Wordlessly, Bridget crouched down and began picking up the larger pieces of glass while attempting to keep the cat from walking through the ravage. The sticky substance was caramel, she realised. She cleaned the scene as quickly and efficiently as she could, while the younger woman was still cooling what Bridget assumed was burnt skin. When the floor was kitty-proof once more, the psychologist grabbed the first-aid kit from the bathroom and made her way back over to Franky. 

“May I see, please?” The ten required minutes of cooling had passed and it was time to assess the damage. The brunette carefully dried her injured hand and held it out towards Bridget. The skin was definitely burnt, but it looked no worse than first-degree. The older woman gently covered it with hydrophobic cream before bandaging it. 

“Thank you.” Franky’s reply was mumbled, and she turned to continue her cooking.

“Can I help?” Bridget mentally prepared herself for a huffed ‘no’, but to her surprise the younger woman replied: “Could you julienne the carrots and the red onions?” 

“Sure.” Together, they worked in silence,  until Franky suddenly commented: “It's just been too perfect, you know?”

“What do you mean?” Bridget replied as she cut an onion in half. She had an idea of what the brunette was implying, but she needed Franky to say the words herself; to voice her thoughts that seemed to be bothering her so much.

“It just feels like life has been so good to me recently, that something is going to happen to mess that all up. Like I'm feeling a bad omen or something, I dunno.” Bingo.

“Life has been good, because you've worked your arse off to get here,” the blonde answered, her voice steady while the lacrimal gas of the onions began to reach her eyes. “You deserve every second of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank you all for your lovely comments. It's the love in the fandom that keeps it together and keeps us strong!


	6. Gift Wrap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to stress that these ficlets are all unrelated. They are all separate universes, if you will.
> 
> Jenfurlee has graciously allowed me to borrow her Westfall family for this one.

“Mums? Do you know where the gift wrap is?” Ellie’s voice screeched through the home, causing both of the mentioned women to cringe at the noise. The teenager had the tendency to scream a bit louder than necessary these days, but it seemed the holidays gave her some unspoken reason to yell that tiny bit louder.

“Why does Ellie need gift wrap?” The question came from little Bea, who was sitting at the dining room table with Bridget, colouring in a colouring book. Who also happened to very much still believe in Santa Claus. 

“She’s bought a gift for a friend,” her blonde mum fibbed, while nodding her head towards Franky, trying to tell her to go talk some sense into their eldest daughter before she ruined this year’s holiday surprise. Why in the world Ellie needed gift wrap was beyond them, because the parents had always done all the shopping, though she suspected she may have gotten something for her boyfriend. The brunette got up from her spot on the couch and walked over to the source of the yelling: Ellie’s bedroom. She knocked on the frame of the door before entering, and hissing: “Ellie! You can’t just talk about Christmas gifts like that; Bea nearly figured it out!” The teenager in question huffed, and replied: “She’s five, Mum, she’s going to figure it out soon anyway.”

“Yes, which is why we’d like to have at least one more Christmas filled with wonder, okay?”

“Fine.” Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Great.” 

“Can you leave now?” Suppressing a scoff, Franky nodded calmly and turned around to exit the room. 

“The wrap is in Mum’s study, by the way, next to the bookcases.”

 

Christmas morning arrived quickly, and Bridget and Franky were woken up by an excited little body launching itself onto their bed, and, effectively, onto Bridget’s abdomen.

“It’s Christmas!” Bea announced, giving her mothers a quick hug before continuing on towards her next victim. From the direction of the sound of her footsteps, it was Nolan who was getting the free wake-up call now. 

“Nollie! It’s Christmas!” They could hear a disgruntled yawn, followed by an amused chuckle and a: “Good morning, little bug.” Ellie came walking past their room and commented: “She’s bloody excited.”

“Language, Ellie!” Bridget chided. The teen huffed and slowly padded downstairs.

“She’s not wrong,” Franky whispered with a soft giggle.

 

The entire family made their way down to the Christmas tree in the living room, where Bridget and Franky had arranged the presents the night before. However, when they arrived, both mothers let out a gasp. There had been at least a dozen presents added to the collection. Ellie and Nolan were standing in front of the tree, smiling at their parents.

“We figured that Santa could use a little help,” the eldest daughter whispered.


	7. Frosted Glass

“It's fucking freezing!” Franky exclaimed as they walked out of their hotel, much to Bridget’s amusement. A layer of snow covered everything in sight, turning the world into a genuine winter wonderland.

“Might I remind you that you're the one who wanted to spend Christmas in Paris?” the blonde replied. Since five months, Franky’s travelling restrictions had been lifted, which meant her parole was finally over with, and the brunette had been over the moon ever since. Because of that, Bridget had brought up the idea of spending the holidays abroad to celebrate the milestone, especially since Franky had never even been out of state. The younger woman had chosen France. They had arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport the day before, and today was their first morning in the city of lights. First stop: a real French bakery for some actual breakfast. 

They walked along the streets, observing the Parisians and tourists alike. Everyone was dressed in thick jumpers, coats and scarves to battle the harsh December cold. Bridget knew that underneath her jacket, Franky was only wearing a thin sweater and a tank top, having laughed at the blonde while getting dressed this morning when she had pulled on a thick knitted sweater and scarf. The brunette had jokingly asked her: “How cold can it possibly be?” As it turned out, negative two degrees Celsius was very, very cold, and Bridget was attempting to suppress an: ‘I told you so.’

A couple of hours later, Franky was positively shivering as they walked away from the Eiffel tower.

“Maybe we should head back to the hotel, to warm up?” Bridget suggested softly. The brunette nodded.

“I think it's colder than I expected it to be.” 

“Let's take a taxi then, instead of the metro,” the older woman decided. 

 

Their driver was an older gentleman, who spoke English with a thick accent. He pointed out the sights as they drove past them, Franky curled up against Bridget in the back seat. The blonde was staring at the frozen ice crystals in the corner of the window on her side while he spoke, gently stroking the younger woman’s arm. As they approached the hotel, he asked the women: “Do you know what they say about Paris?” Bridget shook her head, and replied: “What is it?”

“ _ Reservée aux amoureux.  _ For lovers only.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by one of my favourite movies.


	8. Interlude

Franky gazed at herself in the mirror once more before walking out into the living room. Did she really look okay? Would this adhere to the formal dress code? She pulled on the hem of her top, making sure that there were no wrinkles in the shimmery fabric. Her hair was down, cascading onto her shoulders. 

“You look great.” The statement came from the doorway to the hallway, and Franky spun around to face the source. Bridget was leaning against the door frame, dressed in soft blue and lace. “Ready?” The brunette nodded. Yeah, she was ready.

The car ride to the theatre was uneventful. Bridget softly sang along to the radio while Franky guided them through the streets of Melbourne. It was still quite light out, despite the evening hour. They quickly found a place to park and made their way over to the front entrance, where a small group of people had gathered to smoke before the show. Bridget’s right arm was linked through the taller woman’s left, her hand resting upon Franky’s forearm. The older woman handed the employee their tickets, and they were granted entry into the foyer. It was absolutely bustling with people, guests and staff alike, and Franky felt slightly overwhelmed as Bridget led her towards the bar to get a drink. Once they were both holding a glass of sparkling water, however, she felt a little more at ease, the icy temperature of the liquid cooling both her body and her nerves.

Before she knew it, a chime sounded suddenly, and everyone started moving.

“The doors to the auditorium are open,” Bridget explained. They walked upstairs and followed the crowd onto the balcony, finding their seats with ease. The lights in the hall flashed once, twice, and then they dimmed, signalling the start of the performance. 

Franky was mesmerised by the dancers on stage. They seemed to be floating across the floor, embodying Christmas guests, rats, and snowflakes. The men jumped higher than she had thought possible, and the women's turns - fouettés, Bridget had later explained - seemed to go on forever. When the curtains suddenly closed and the lights turned back on, she quickly faced the blonde asking: “Is it over?” Smiling softly, the older woman replied: “No, it's intermission.”

“Thank God!”

No one could have predicted that Franky Doyle would fall in love with the Nutcracker, but it was the purest form of wonder all the guests surrounding them had seen in a long time. 


	9. Lullaby

Franky was certain that she was going to go insane. When her father had mentioned that he had been offered a project to work on between Christmas and New Year’s that would pay more than double of his average salary, she had immediately offered to watch her little sister for the time being. She wanted the best life for Tess, and knowing that in this way she could help out, it was no big deal. At least, that’s what she had told herself. 

To be fair, the first night had been easy. Alan had left once Tess had already been in bed, and the goodbye had been accompanied by a couple of sleepy yawns. Today itself hadn’t been much of an issue either. The younger Doyle sister was extremely excited to be spending time with her ‘favourite sister’ - not that there was another one - and had been jumping up and down with enthusiasm from the moment she woke up. They had been to the playground, they had watched a Disney movie, and they had made pizza together. Everything had been going smoothly.

Well, it had been going too smoothly, apparently. Now that it was time for bed, Tess wouldn’t stop crying, no matter what her big sister did. Franky had tried letting her cry, but that only seemed to worsen the problem. She had given her some warm milk, held her while stroking her back; she had put on another movie, but to no avail: the tiny brunette would not stop crying and refused to sleep. She wanted her Dad, who, unfortunately, couldn’t be reached by phone either. Franky was getting desperate. She grabbed her phone while the girl was still trembling in her lap, and sent a quick message to the woman whom she had promised to call...about an hour ago.

_ Hey Gidge, Tess won’t stop crying. Don’t know how to comfort her. Tried everything. Sorry for not calling. X _

Twelve minutes later, the doorbell rang. The older sister hoisted Tess up to rest against her upper body and on her right hip as she walked over to the front door to check who in the world would be at the door at this hour of the night. Opening it just slightly, she could see blue eyes and a gentle smile.

“Gidget?”

“I thought you could use the company,” Bridget responded with a slight shrug. “Well hello, miss Tessa!” The blonde pressed a quick kiss onto both of the sisters’ cheeks, lingering slightly on Franky’s. Together they made their way inside, until they were all seated on the small couch, the still-sniffling girl tucked safely between the women. Franky quickly explained to the older woman what was going on and what she had tried, and Bridget pressed her lips together as she listened.

“How about we all get in the big bed?” she suggested. “Just for tonight.” Tess looked up at the adults with big eyes. Franky smiled. 

“I think that sounds like a great idea, don’t you, Tess?”

 

Minutes later, they were all under the covers, the little brunette curled up against her sister while Bridget was gently stroking her back. Although she had visibly calmed down, her body was still shaking with the occasional sob. Franky looked at the blonde with a face full of desperation. With a soft smile, Bridget suddenly started singing, her voice barely more than a whisper.

_ “When all the world is a hopeless jumble, and the raindrops tumble on the ground, heaven opens a magic lane. When all the clouds darken up the skyway, there’s a rainbow highway to be found, leaving from your windowpane to a place behind the sun, just a step beyond the rain.” _

Franky suddenly recognised the lyrics, and she joined in, the pair continuing the song together.

_ “Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, there’s a land that I dreamed of, once in a lullaby. Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue, and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.” _

When the younger woman looked down at her chest again, Tess had fallen into a peaceful slumber.


	10. Moonlight

“Bye, drive safely!” Bridget called out as she waved their final guests farewell. Matthew gave her a broad smile and Vera responded with a small wave as they got into their car and drove off. They made a cute couple, the blonde mused. She could feel the exhaustion settle in her body now that the evening was finally over. Hosting a Christmas dinner for over twenty guests had been incredibly fun, but her back was aching with the strain of being on her feet all evening - even though everyone had told her more than once to sit down, she felt like she had to care for all of her guests. When the taillights of the car had left her field of view, she walked back inside to find Franky loading the dirty plates into the dishwasher while she was humming along to the radio. 

“Hey,” the blonde sighed, moving over towards the light switch to change from ambient light to something actually useful. Just as she flipped it, the home went dark. “What the…” Franky immediately grabbed a flashlight from a drawer and walked over to the other woman, commenting: “I'm guessing a fuse blew.” Bridget groaned softly.

“I knew I was forgetting something when I left the store.” Looking at one another, the pair quickly burst into giggles. 

“So, I guess I can stop doing this, then,” the taller woman stated, motioning at the dishwasher. With the power out, it was nothing more but an expensive tableware cabinet. 

“We’ll have to fix this tomorrow, then,” Bridget decided. She ran a hand through her hair as she quickly analysed the situation. From the looks of things, the entire house was without power. They would have to keep the fridge closed as much as they could, to avoid having to throw everything out.

“Come,” Franky suddenly announced, grabbing her the blonde’s hand and pulling her towards the yard. The paralegal chuckled as the other woman mumbled her protest. When they were standing in the middle of the grass, she whispered: “Dance with me.” A gentle smile appeared on the shorter woman’s face and she nodded, letting her partner guide her in a slow dance to music only they could hear. The pair danced amidst the flowers, illuminated only by the moonlight. It was magical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 10 already - time flies when you're having fun! :)


	11. Family

The home of Bridget Westfall was bustling with activity. Actually, to be more accurate, her backyard was. Matthew Fletcher was manning the barbecue while Genevieve, Bridget’s younger sister, was entertaining the various children running across the grass. Near the house, Vera and Will were chatting underneath the shade of a parasol. Bridget smiled as she observed it all from the doorway to the kitchen while Linda Miles slipped past her on her way back outside from the bathroom. Nearly everyone the blonde psychologist cared about had gathered here to celebrate the holidays, though there was one person missing. It was obvious. She was missing her girl by her side. Sighing softly, Bridget grabbed her glass of orange juice from the windowsill and joined Genevieve.

“Hey Bridge,” the younger Westfall sister greeted her as she handed a blue-coloured crayon to one of the kids.

“Heya. Having fun with auntie Ginny?” Bridget asked the girl to her right, who nodded vigorously. She chuckled. “Good!” Suddenly a pair of hands landed on her hips. Spinning around, she ended up face-to-face with Franky. The brunette looked flustered and sweaty.

“I'm so sorry it took so long Gidge, traffic on our way back from Lizzy’s was a disaster!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air for dramatic emphasis. Behind her, Liz Birdsworth was standing awkwardly with her arms to her side, her daughter Sophie next to her. Bridget broke the embrace to welcome them: “Liz, Sophie, I'm so glad you could make it!” The older woman had completed her parole and now lived on the other side of town, making a living cleaning rooms in a nursing home. She had reconciled with her daughter, and Bridget knew Franky was extremely proud of her, so when Liz had called to say that her car had broken down, the paralegal had immediately volunteered to come pick her up, no questions asked. 

Their family might be unconventional, but they were family nonetheless. 


	12. Cinnamon

Franky woke to the smell of ginger and cinnamon, faint, yet undeniably permeating the bedroom. She yawned, stretched languidly, then set about her morning routine. As she threw on her jogging clothes, her curiosity got the better of her and she found herself wandering toward the kitchen of the vacation home they were staying at for the holidays. The smell of ginger and cinnamon grew stronger, adding in the smell of fruit and sugar as she grew closer. Soft humming reached her ears and she couldn’t stop a small smile from creeping onto her face.

“Good morning,” Franky greeted, stepping into the kitchen.

Bridget’s smile stretched to her ears. “G’mornin’, baby. Did you sleep okay?”

“Quite well,” Franky replied. “I came to see what you were making before going on my run. I could smell it all the way in our room.”

Bridget chuckled. “I’ll take that as a warning. As everyone else wakes up, they’ll all wander in here, too. It’s supposed to be a surprise for Tess!” To her right was a sizable pile of peeled and cored apples and a large bowl of brown, syrupy liquid. Her soft blouse was rolled up to the elbows as she sliced her way through an apple, mixing the slices in the glaze, and laid them out in a set of baking pans.

“Well, are you going to tell me what you’re making, then? Or leave my curiosity unsatisfied?” Franky snagged an apple slice from Bridget’s fingers and popped it into her mouth.

“Oh, I’d never dare to leave you unsatisfied,” Bridget countered with a smirk.

Franky rolled her eyes and snatched another slice of apple.


	13. The Night Before Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Partial credits go to Clement Clarke Moore. ;)

‘t Was the night before Christmas, when all through the gaol

Not a creature was stirring, female or male.

The teal shirts were hung on their hooks with care,

In hopes that the Governor soon would be there.

 

The inmates were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of chocolates danced in their heads

And as they dreamed of a nice Christmas gift

I had just settled my brain for a long winter’s night shift.

 

When out in the yard there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the breakroom to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

 

The floodlights on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

 

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

 

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

 

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So, up to the prison roof the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of gifts, and St Nicholas too.

 

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

 

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

A bundle of gifts he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

 

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

 

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

 

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

 

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And passed all the prison cells, then turned with a jerk.

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

 

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

"Stay out of Franky’s stash, you’re high as a kite.”


	14. Chin Tilt

Whenever Franky kissed her, she always grabbed Bridget’s face. The paralegal’s slender fingers would cup her cheeks and pull her in, sometimes biting into the skin. Other times they would wrap around the back of her neck and her thumb would press up against the bottom of her jawbone, tilting her face upwards. Either way, the touch is meant to pull her in close so Franky can take control.

It was a show of dominance. Which made sense, Bridget thought, because dominance was practically written into the brunette’s DNA. Franky’s entire being imbued confidence—the way she talked, the way she walked; the way her shoulders sat when she stood—and that confidence reflected in the way she took on the world.

Bridget had confidence, too. It was one of the reasons their relationship was so passionate—neither one of them were one to back down from anything. Both would rather engage in a knock down dragged-out battle of wits than tuck their tails between their legs and bow to the other’s sensibilities.

That’s why whenever Franky kissed her in that hard, controlling way that she seemed to have down to a science, Bridget bit her back to remind her that she is not the only dominant one.


	15. Lights

Alan, Franky and Bridget found themselves standing in front of a home they had never visited before, a slight sense of nervousness clouding their thoughts. Tess, in contrary, was about as excited as her little body could bear. Franky was convinced she was about to fall over from the adrenalin. The girl had been going on about how much she was looking forward to dinner at her best friend Leah’s house. Suddenly the door opened, and a man and woman greeted them.

“Hi, I'm Esther, and this is my husband Gideon. You must be Tess’ family!” The tiny brunette in question nodded enthusiastically. Bridget smiled and stepped forward.

“I'm Bridget, and these are Alan and Franky.”

“Please, do come in!” Esther and Gideon led their guests inside, where they encountered an elaborately set dinner table. 

“Thank you so much for having us,” Alan commented. “You didn't have to.”

“It's our pleasure,” Gideon replied as his wife handed everyone a glass of water. “We're very grateful you were willing to come celebrate with us. Now, would you join us for the lighting of the menorah now that the sun has set?”

 

Once the candles had been lit and prayers had been said, the attendees sat down to eat. Their nerves seemed to have not been necessary at all. Tess in particular was excited to try all of the food, while Esther promised Franky she'd send her the recipes.

 

When they left the home that night, heading back home, Bridget asked Franky: “If I'd told you 3 years ago that you'd be attending a Ḥanukah dinner with your family today?”

“I would've laughed in your face and tell you that dreams don't come true.” she responded. The blonde smiled.

“A holiday miracle huh?”

 

_ This ficlet has been a bit shorter than normal, for which I apologise. However - even though I'm a bit late - I would like to say Chag urim same’ach; may you have a wonderful time with family and friends, filled with light and love. _


	16. Fruit

The home of Vera Bennett usually was as quiet as a library the day before finals, but today it was filled with people. The Bennett family had never been one to celebrate holidays or throw parties, but Rita Bennett had taught her daughter one thing while she was growing up: the Bennetts always host a Christmas bash, each and every year, no matter what. So, that was what the woman was doing right now - even if it felt extremely unnatural to do so. She had invited the small group of relatives she had left, and her closest colleagues. Therefore, Linda Miles was now standing in the living room, talking to her uncle Greg, while Bridget Westfall and Greg’s wife were watching Will Jackson man the grill. Suddenly, Franky Doyle walked up to her and hissed: “That lemonade that you’ve been serving, does it by any chance contain alcohol?” 

“Why in the world would you suggest that?” The only things that were supposed to be in her lemonade were lemons, water and sugar; nothing alcoholic had even made it onto her shopping list. All of a sudden, Vera had a realisation. She walked over to her uncle, and mumbled: “Did you spike my lemonade?” The senior citizen gave her a grin and responded: “It helps everyone loosen up!” A groan sounded next to her face. Franky had raised a hand to her face, and sighed: “That would explain why Bridget is...giggly.”

 

The paralegal walked back over to her wife. She should have recognised that goofy grin the moment she saw it. Grabbing the current glass of lemonade out of her hand, she told her: “I think it’s time to go home, babe.”

“Why?” the blonde asked her with a slight whine audible in her voice.

“The lemonade is alcoholic, Gidge.” 

“Oh. Oh!” the older woman responded, realisation slowly setting in. She whispered as if she was disclosing a classified secret: “So...am I drunk?” Grinning, Franky replied: “Pretty much. Good thing I like ya, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for this chapter and the following being delayed. I, unfortunately, got injured, which has resulted in my dominant right arm/hand being immobilised in a sling. Therefore I can only use my non-dominant hand to write, which is quite a bit more difficult than my usual writing process. I will get the final 10 chapters of this series to you as soon as I can. Hopefully, that will be in time for the 25th, but if I can't make that happen, I would like to ask you for your understanding - thank you in advance.
> 
> I would also like to address some critique I have received more than once. It seems some of you are not a fan of my choice to have multiple stories in progress at the same time. As much as I understand wanting to be able to read a story all the way through within a short period of time, it's not the way I work. This is me, and whether you want to read my stories is up to you. It is not obligatory for you to read my uploads - nor is it obligatory for me to publish anything at all. Please remember that fanfiction writers do this for free; we have real lives that may get in the way, and sometimes that calls for empathy and patience. You do not pay us for writing, and thus you do not hold any rights or ownership when it comes to our productions.   
> As for the way this has been communicated to me, I would just like to say this: getting angry and rude with someone is not a very effective to motivate them to continue working on a certain story. If anything, it is more likely to cause them to do the very opposite. If you want to know how a story is coming along or how far I am when it comes to the next chapter, there are multiple ways to reach out to me: Twitter, Email (sugarsweetromantic@gmail.com) or even just by leaving another comment on the story - I do always try to get back to you. 
> 
> Finally, I would like to urge you all to remember: fanfiction writers are fans just like you. I have always loved about the Wentworth fandom that it had the capacity to come together as one when needed - let's keep it that way. Positive reinforcement and a positive atmosphere encourage people to continue baring their souls by uploading their works; because that's what it is: a story is a part of who a writer is. Constructive criticism is always appreciated, but throwing around shade, expletives and insults feels like a personal attack on someone who is doing something for you selflessly and will never get you anywhere: not here nor anywhere in life.
> 
> I hope you all have a wonderful December. 
> 
> Belle.


	17. Celebration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! With a somewhat functioning hand! :)

Stress was running through Bridget’s body. The psychologist could try to hide it all she wanted, but it was obvious. The reason for her tenseness was just as evident; all Franky needed to do was look in her planner: small, purple crosses were spread through the months, all exactly 28 days apart. All of the crosses had tiny black circles around them, except for one, five days ago. Bridget’s period was late, and it was driving her nuts.

Of course, procreation wasn’t the elephant in the room. If Franky had managed to get her pregnant, that would be an international news story. No, the big bad wolf whose breath Bridget felt in her neck, was her age. 

So when Franky came home two days later and saw that today’s date had finally gained a small circle around the digits, she smiled softly. 

That evening, after dinner, she brought out dessert. It was a small, round cake, decorated in white icing, blackberries and chocolate sprinkles. The blackberries formed a cross, surrounded by a round border of chocolate. Bridget laughed out loud. 

“You baked me a cake.” Franky shrugged.

“It felt celebration-worthy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading; I'd love to hear your thoughts!


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